Text in intentional order creating perfect patterns, telling stories
Old and new, faded ink, bright type each exuding a rich smell,
known only to faithful visitors
The rustling of pages, shhhhhhhh, something soothing
Each book silently begging to be picked up
If you would only venture into their lives
They only ask that you do not dog ear their corners,
Use them to kill “the SCARIEST spider ever,”